Two Paths And One Love
by pink-promise
Summary: Pure fluff for the fangirl's soul XD   Ariadne is lost in a love triangle as Eames and Arthur both try to get Ariadne's favor. Don't read if you're into action.
1. Prologue

Prologue

**Two Paths and One Love**

Arthur and Eames have always been close teammates. After the Fischer job, Ariadne's life has been changed completely. She used to be just a normal college student. She was not popular, but she had her close and true friends. Hardly any guys asked her out, but how can anyone help that? Her college is filled with nerdy guys who don't even know how to communicate.

But now.

_**Not only she has changed.**_

Arthur, who had hardly received enough love during his childhood, wants to give love a shot. He cannot live without Ariadne in his life.

And Eames, that Eames, who never believes in serious relationships, is all of a sudden _changed_.

Should Ariadne believe in them? If so, which one will she choose? It's a hard decision, but then again, life is just a series of decisions to make…

Eames is more charming, but Arthur has a thing with words.

For anything to continue, Ariadne must face this choice. And if she doesn't, Eames and Arthur's long lasted friendship will lay in ruins. And not only that, the whole crew will collapse.

"_Please believe me, just this once, for me, darling."_

Eames.

"_Ariadne, you know my heart beats for you."_

Arthur.

**Beware.**

90% fluff and 10% miscellaneous.

Out of character. But so what?

If you fave, then review.


	2. Chapter One

**Chapter One: airport acquaintance**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Arthur though I really wish I did. LOL. Or any of the crew.**

When Ariadne stepped off the plane, she knew something wasn't quite right. The dimensions of the airport walls were so straight, the bustling streets through the glass panels were absolute parallel, and the geometric shapes on the ceiling were perfection- factory manufactured…

She put her hands on her small hips as she waited under the luggage pick up sign for her giant bag to turn the corner.

Ariadne glanced around, observing and taking in the whole scene like a painting, the way she always does.

Suddenly, Eames appeared in front of her,

as glorious as ever in his wrinkled signature print shirt, which always seemed to be missing a button or two.

"you need some help with that there, darling?" He pointed casually to a gigantic bag coming their way, a maroon-red Kipling.

Ariadne was dizzy from the weeklong plane ride. Or was it just simply because she met Eames?

She never really felt anything for the easygoing guy, but there was this something mysterious like a secret locked up inside him, that made her curious.

Eames picked up her travel bag effortlessly with one hand, chuckling as he slung it over his shoulder. "love, that's quite a big bag for a petite thing like you."

Ariadne felt her whole face burning up as she stumbled for a reply, brushing her hand through her hair. "yes…well. Better to be prepared. Besides, this is my first mission, unlike old school-ers like you."

He chuckled again, half because of the naivety of Ariadne, she wasn't the usual girl he'd converse with at a bar downtown. Might as well tease her a bit more, before old Cobb saw them and interfered with his fun. "darling, you're quite right. By the way, love, I'm surprised you still look quite dazzling after the long flight. I'm zonked out."

Ariadne rolled her eyes like she didn't care, but inside she was bubbling with a mix of nervousness, annoyance, and love. Eames was flirty, but still an amazing loyalty and comrade, after all.

Even though Eames often talked his mind and went straightforward, he sensed her uneasiness. So he started off on a few safer conversations, about their plans for the next few weeks.

"Any road, I'm heading off to Barcelona, got to do something bloody fun with this new money we've got here, eh? There's a few ace bands playing up in the bars there, and I'm going to meet me some new acquaintances."

"that sounds full of action," Ariadne smiled to herself. "I'm going back to my family for awhile up in Toronto, and to meet up with some old friends."

Out of the corner of her eye Ariadne suddenly spotted Arthur, standing a few meters up front with his hands in the pockets of his sophisticated-and probably very expensive- trousers. He was staring at the rain pattering against the transparent walls outside.

Arthur's brows were knitted together like confusion, and gave her an impression of scowling.

But his eyes were smiling, shining, and for a moment she didn't know if she was still dreaming.

If Eames really meant she looked dazzling after the flight, then Arthur must have been a thousand times more. His leather jacket looked untouched, his hair put back, his three-piece suit looked like it was bought right off the ZEGNA shelf a minute ago.

The truth was that Arthur was burning up inside with jealousy and annoyance. Why the hell was Eames hitting on Ariadne? And what the hell happened to the two week no contact rule?

Arthur was the type of guy who followed strictly on rules and acted very business-like. He couldn't just switch off his business mode from time to time, since the airport IS a very business-like location.

But no, he could not stand it. He knew Eames, why, he's worked with him for the last couple of years since he ran off from Yale during his third year.

Arthur was born into a very wealthy family; his dad owned a huge company for electronics. Though he was not as filthy rich as Fischer, he was not far away.

Arthur though Eames was a pretty nice guy, ever since he met him at a bar in New York. Arthur had quit his Yale career in the third year, packed his stuff and began touring with his band, leaving his divorced parents to confusion. They had started talking after the performance at the bartender table, and soon afterwards both met up again during Cobb's inception missions.

Now, Arthur glanced again at Ariadne and Eames. He just ruffled her hair, and now they're laughing. He half scowled, half scoffed while getting his luggage and strode off to the check out area when he heard familiar footsteps behind him. It was Ariadne.

"Arthur. Hey." She said.

Arthur gave her a lop-sided smile, raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, come on for god's sake. Don't give me that Arthur look. What were you thinking?"

"What. Yeah… I should really see my own expressions"

"No! Arthur, I mean, why were you staring at me the whole time across the room over there?"

Ariadne was cute and charming, but sometimes her curiosity was just too demanding.

"Uh. Nothing, really. Just wondering if you needed an umbrella, since it's raining outside."

Ariadne raised her eyebrows and gave him a I-know-you're-lying look, while straightening her maroon scarf.

"Okay, okay. It's just that… Don't take Mr. Eames too seriously, alright?"

Ariadne broke off into a big laugh. "Haha, Arthur! Of course." Inside, she was laughing, realizing how the well-composed and conservative guy has such an envious and jealous mind.

Arthur smiled again, reassured by what she just said. "Mmm. Right, that's good…"

They headed off to the exit, Ariadne gave her huge bag to Arthur, and she couldn't help but notice that he slung it over his shoulder the same way that Eames did, but in a more… professional way.

When they got outside, Arthur opened up his long black umbrella. Suddenly Ariadne thought of the first layer of the dream, during the car chase. Cold nostalgia ran over her and she shivered.

"Ariadne, come closer. The rain is pretty big today, you don't want to get a cold on the first day of your millionaire-life."

"Oh sure, you really care about me, don't you?" Ariadne felt all warm inside. Arthur was holding the umbrella with one hand and the luggage on the other. She felt so warm, walking beside him. Ariadne wrapped her arms around his and leaned on his shoulder…this was a dream anyway, she thought.

Arthur was startled but he smiled inside, and asked 'you feeling alright?'

'Just a little dizzy, we hardly had anything to eat on the plane ride,' she made up.

They were just about to cross the street to the taxi line when a red Porsche screeched up in front of them, splashing water all over Arthur's very chic leather jacket. The glass window came down and a head appeared, it was Eames.

'Ariadne, love, you need a ride? It's awfully pouring outside. Change of plans; turns out I need to travel to Canada first to do a little…business. So.."

By now Arthur was scowling very badly at Eames. 'Mr. Eames, you were never very good with your driving skills, were you?"

"Ah, Arthur love, we all know your mad driving skills during that train incident." Eames chuckled.

Ariadne, now soaking wet, glanced at Arthur. He in reply nodded to her and told her to accept the ride. The taxi line was exceptionally long today, anyway.

Ariadne slid in the back, and Arthur put in her luggage.

"Arthur, you need a ride too? You don't look so amazing, I would say." Eames looked at him from the rearview mirror.

"No, I'm fine. I'm staying in the states for a few more jobs to do." Arthur was so pissed-off at Eames last minute arrangements. At this rate, he's going to spend all his fresh money in no time.

"Take good care of Ariadne." Arthur patted the car top.

Eames nodded, slid up the window, and drove away in a fast arch, splashing rainwater all over again on Arthur. He cursed, closing his umbrella- it was useless on big rain days- and chose the Metro instead.

Why hadn't he stopped that Eames? Because it was for Ariadne, she just couldn't get a cold in the rain, that would be terrible and a pain for him. Arthur kept telling himself.


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two: Big Trouble for Arthur!**

**Please review!**

A few months later Arthur decides to visit Cobb and his two children.

_Knock knock._

"Who is it?" Dom Cobb called from behind the door. He was getting really paranoid and protective of the kids, especially after the Fischer job and he could reunite with his family.

"Arthur!" He said back, as Cobb opened the door.

"Ah! James, Phillpa, come along! Uncle Artie has come for a visit!"

Arthur smiled. He didn't like Cobb calling him uncle Artie, it made him feel ancient, even though he was still in his 20s. But these people were almost part of his family, since he didn't really have one of his own. His parents died when he was thirteen years old, and his other relatives barely still talk to him.

"Helloh, uncle Artie!" The kids squealed, hugging his leg.

"Daddy! We're building a bird nest!" Phillipa yelled. The children ran off out to the porch.

The two men were left alone in the living room. They were both very silent. But it wasn't awkward. It was their way of communicating, sometimes. Sharing a silent moment together is louder than words.

Cobb broke the silence first. "Okay. Arthur. I can feel something's wrong with you. Why are you so depressed?"

Arthur ran his hands through his slicked back hair . Then he readjusted his tie and turned sat down on a chair close by. "Dom, what was it like being in love?"

Dom stretched. These questions didn't bother him anymore. He loved Mal, but now she's something of the past, and he's moved on.

"Love is…unbelievable. It's like…like nothing matters anymore. Like there's somebody who understands you more than yourself. Like you would sacrifice your own life for the other." Cobb leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "Why'd you ask?"

Arthur felt his face burning and he gives a little cough. "Oh. I don't know…Just wondering."

Cobb knew Arthur so well deep down the core. "This have anything to do with Ariadne?"

"Yeah, um. Yeah. Actually it does."

Dom chuckled. "Ariadne's not the average girl to be won over with a little present, you know that."

Arthur nodded. "But Eames thinks otherwise."

"What do you mean?"

Arthur spilled the secret. "On the day we arrived at the airport, Eames came back with a red Porsche and Ariadne seemed to love it."

Cobb frowned. "Hmmmm… Maybe she just needed a ride to somewhere. The taxi line was really long, if I remember clearly."

"True…Maybe I am thinking too much." Arthur felt better.

"Yes, Arthur. You definitely are. Look, why don't you go take her somewhere? Maybe to look at architecture? An art show? Do something that you know Eames can't do."

Arthur froze. "Dom, why mention Eames?"

"Why? Are you serious? Arthur! Ariadne has been going out with him a lot these past weeks. You really didn't know?"

Arthur fumed inside. He kept a calm and relaxed face, though his voice gave him away. "No. No one told me."

"Don't worry. Ariadne's never told me either. I kind of found out when I bumped into them in a store."

"What store?" Arthur narrowed his eyes.

"Uh. Why ask? It was…well. A children's clothing department." Cobb coughed.

"WHAT?" Arthur wondered. _Why would they be shopping for children's clothes?_ A thousand possibilities ran through his mind, and only one could stay. The idea burned holes through his ego. _Ariadne, could she be…_

Dom sighed. "Look. I really don't know why they were there. But Ariadne was…well she didn't change, if you're thinking what I'm thinking. But I believe you should really go find for yourself. Win her back, Arthur. I know you can succeed. But you should know, Eames has been focused on long relationships lately. I don't even see him gambling or drinking anymore these days." Cobb stood up. "Look, I have to go. Phillipa's art class is in ten minutes. Take care, Arthur. And good luck.

Arthur walked out of Cobb's house, feeling like he was on fire, a fire that would never die down, not until he gave Eames a good lesson.


	4. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three: Eames is caught…red handed!**

**Please review!**

After Arthur heard of the totally strange news about Ariadne and Eames shopping for children's clothes, he couldn't fall asleep at all. It gave him a headache every time he thought about it, and all he could do was take insomnia pills to fall asleep and drink coffee to stay awake. He sighed.

Ariadne.

It was something he couldn't get, something he never could.

**Love.**

Her wide imploring blue eyes gazing up at him, her wavy brunette hair, her maroon coat, the way she looked when she concentrates on something. The way she smelled like cinnamon that day when he had built up the nerves to kiss her.

Those images made Arthur so uneasy.

Love wasn't something he could defeat through any of his Point Man skills.

_Or not…_

Arthur stood up. He was going to make a plan. Something he's always been good at. The only way he could feel safe.

He drove to the warehouse and unlocked the door. The heavy rusting doors opened up to the big warehouse, which reminded him of a parking lot. He went over to the different working desks. Ariadne's table was a mountain made of paper, most were forms, documents, and work related things. But then, out of all the black and white papers, he picked out a pink envelope. It was from Eames. Attached to it was a little key chain with a glass photo on it. A photo of Ariadne and Eames at a party. Arthur touched the crystallized cover. Ariadne looked so beautiful, her blue eyes staring right into the camera. Eames had on a silly grin, and his eyes were looking at Ariadne.

Arthur felt like crushing the keychain to pieces. But it was Ariadne's, and so he put it down. Next he looked at the pink letter.

He read:

_Hello love,_

_It's Eames here. How are you? Have you finished your studies? Here is the keychain I promised to send you. Happy birthday! I love your smile. Next week, I am visiting Paris. Would you mind spending a day with me darling? I know you miss me too. ;) _

_From Eames._

Arthur put the envelope back. That's it! He thought. He was burning on fire now. He marched to Eames desk and saw his monthly planner lying near his laptop. He flipped it to the most recent week to see his plans.

March 21st: Ariadne's birthday!

March 25th: Ari and my three month anniversary!

March 26th: Take Ari on a trip!

March 27th: Free

March 28th: Go to kids clothing store

March 30th: SAMDOSA bar. Poker with old friends.

Arthur frowned as he saw all the dates with Ariadne in them. _Three month anniversary? Ariadne's birthday? _

He silently cursed himself. He had been too wrapped up in his work, and he was afraid what Ariadne would think of him. Unprofessional. He groaned in frustration. For her birthday, all he did was send her an email. Ariadne had sent back a simple 'thank you'.

But then Arthur smirked as he saw March 30th: Poker with old friends at the SAMDOSA bar. Cobb had said that Eames stopped gambling to win Ariadne over. _So what could he possibly be doing there?_

He was determined to find out. He swiftly flipped up his black laptop and searched up where the bar was. He decided to go a little early, so he wouldn't miss anything. Then he shuffled through Eames's stuff and found a point and shoot camera.

He got to work.

Turns out that the SAMDOSA bar wasn't far away, when he got there it was only 8 at night. But a lot of people were already there. He felt out of place standing alone in such a crowded place, with the loud music blasting from somewhere invisible. He walked around trying to find Eames. Many men in suits passed by. Waitresses in red miniskirts. He looked away.

It was not hard to find him. Eames was in a grotesque orange shirt, flipping through cards. Arthur took out the camera and clicked.

A shot with Eames raising a full cup of beer in the air. Another of Eames with one of the waitresses. He took many more.

Arthur kissed the little camera and tucked it away. Now that he had all the evidence he needs, he decided to own Eames at a game of poker. It was dark in the bar so it's hard to see people's faces unless you looked very clearly.

He walked over to Eames's table, where many people were sitting, glasses scattered all around and piles of poker chips. Arthur grabbed a chair and sat next to Eames.

"Hey, darling. Can I buy you a drink?" Eames asked nonchalantly. He didn't notice it was Arthur.

"I'm not in a tight red skirt, did you realize that?" Arthur snapped.

"Aw, yeah. But you look dashing in that sleek three-piece of yours."

"So how do you say we play a game of poker?" Arthur pursed his lips in a straight line.

"Sure, love." Eames beckoned for one of the standing waiters to come. He began passing out cards. The other men joined in. At the end, there had to be a showdown. Arthur and Eames were the only ones left in the game.

Arthur played his best cards.

Eames stared in disbelief. "Nice one. I'm impressed." This is when he really looked into Arthur's face.

"Nice to meet you here, Mr. Eames." Arthur smirked.

Eames nearly choked from his beer. "GOD! _**Arthur?"**_

"Hey." Arthur uncrossed his legs. "I don't know what Ariadne will think if she finds out you came here."

Eames swallowed his drink. "How'd you know about that?"

"Cobb told me."

Eames swore. "That old stick in the mud."

Arthur flipped a poker chip in his hands. "What were you doing on March 28th, Eames?"

"Why? I was at the bank."

Arthur slammed the poker chip on the desk and leaned forward. "Yeah right. And what's the truth?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Why were you shopping for children's clothes? With Ariadne?"

"Oh! Darling, that's what you're talking about! Gee, Arthur, it was my niece's birthday the next day. I needed to buy a present. And well, I knew Ariadne could give me the best advice."

Arthur's heart raced. "I see."

"God, I know what you're thinking. No Arthur. I might be in a relationship with Ariadne but…uh… events don't go that fast."

"Mr. Eames. I don't think you would be the best influence for Ariadne."

Eames narrowed his eyes and his voice was louder. _**"And who are you to say that?"**_

"I advice you stay away from her, Eames."

"Ariadne is in love with me. You can't stop that, Arthur. You know she is something you'll never get. Don't inflict your pain and envy in my personal life."

This definitely got to the very core of Arthur. Eames knew him the best. He knew what would hurt Arthur the most. But there's one thing he doesn't know, and that is the fact that Arthur has proof and snapshots of him in the bar.

Arthur shook his head. "Let's keep this professional, shall we?"

"Bloody hell, let's _**not**_." Eames slapped the table. "Ariadne's never going to love someone like you, who always keeps things so emotionless and safe. Work is enough. I'm tired, Arthur. We're all tired. A piece of advice, darling, if you ever want a relationship then cut out your professionalism." Eames folded his arms and leaned back, satisfied of his comeback, while Arthur stared daggers at him.

That was it. Arthur rolled up his sleeves and leaned forward. He nodded sarcastically and said in a calm voice, "And what would an imbecile like _**you **_know about relationships? If I'm "emotionless" you're crude, and if I'm safe you're reckless with no regard for other people whatsoever. As far as I know, you've polished skills for enticing relationships but Ariadne's more than just that."

Arthur carefully examined his last card as Eames finished off his drink. Arthur slammed down his best and last card. "I win."

Eames swallowed and his face tensed up seeing the card. He scrunched up his remaining cards and squeezed his drinking glass like it was going to shatter to pieces.

Arthur stood up, pushing the table away. He tightened his tie and slicked back his hair. "Good luck next time," He said, as he swept the poker chips off the table and went to retrieve his profited share.


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four: How a genius can beat a ladies man**

**Please review!**

The next day was a busy one, and the whole crew came to the warehouse early in the morning. Arthur trashed his breakfast, a take-away, plastic containers and little packs of stuff, scraped clean and folded neatly in sterile zip locked bags. Fresh coffee was brewing in the old machine Cobb had decided to bring into the warehouse, since Mal wasn't around to use it anymore. The faint buzz of the coffee machine and the incessant sound of a rubbing eraser, a sketching pencil, kept the crew awake.

"Good morning, early birds," Eames hollered as he busted through the doors, holding a paper bag with his breakfast and a coffee. Arthur had his feet propped up on his desk, he was leaning back in his swivel chair with a black leather notepad on his lap, sketching a new complicated plan for their recent mission. Arthur saw from the corner of his eye as Ariadne jumped up from her seat and skipped to Eames.

"Hello, Eames…" Her voice seemed so joyful. Arthur groaned.

Eames wrapped his arms around her. "Hey, darling. I brought you hot chocolate. It's going to be a long day of work today, Ari."

Cobb and Yusuf looked up from their work desks, seeing the contented couple. Yusuf whistled, and Cobb sneaked a glance at Arthur's frowning expression.

Arthur stomped to the coffee machine, pouring himself a whole mug of black espresso. He looked at Cobb. The older man turned to him and shrugged, trying to give him some encouragement.

Arthur fished out the little black point-and-shoot camera and casually placed it on Eames's work desk. Then he walked quietly back to his desk, sipping his coffee. He listened, quietly, as Eames began describing to Ariadne the new suspended bridge built on Leon Avenue over the Chappell River.

"…The bridge was breathtaking, it had these amazing suspended metal strings on the top," Arthur heard Eames describe. "…And I took a million pictures so you could see."

Arthur slowly peered up from his sketchpad. Eames was handing Ariadne the small camera now, and she would soon see the pictures…the proof.

Of course, first came the oldest photos. The bridge photos, then the IKEA trip, the park…

Eames left her alone to see the photos and he sat back in his working chair, smirking at Arthur.

Arthur breathed loudly, doodling at the corners of his page.

Suddenly the whole crew jumped as they heard Ariadne wavering cry. "Eames, what the hell! You lied to me! You said you were at a business meeting yesterday night."

Eames looked startled, and he walked over. "What do you mean, darling? I was at a business trip!"

Ariadne shouted, "Yeah, right! Look for yourself!" Then she threw the light weighted camera in Eames's hands and stomped out the warehouse.

Yusuf glanced at Cobb, who gave him a shake of the head. They didn't know what was going on.

Eames scrolled through the recent pictures. He gasped, his heart raced nervously. There he saw pictures of him at the SAMDOSA bar yesterday night, drinking beer. A photo of him playing poker, his arms were around two waitresses. Eames suddenly lunged on to Arthur, giving him a good punch on the side of his face. Arthur lured back, surprised.

"You bloody…" Eames shouted. "I'm going to…I'm going to bloody kill you!"

Arthur stood back up, holding the side of his head calmly.  
"Watch your actions, Mr. Eames." He replied.

"Damn, no!" He lunged again, trying to tackle Arthur down. This time Arthur stepped forward, catching Eames's fists, and putting his arm around his neck, strangling him. Cobb hurriedly came over, followed with Yusuf. They held the enraged Brit down, who was now throwing his fists everywhere.

"Arthur, we'll take care of him. Go find Ariadne."

Arthur smiled inwardly. His goal was accomplished. He strolled off to find Ariadne. He knew where she would be. At the nearest park, the bench facing the city square. It was the best spot in the city, and he had shown her to it, once…

"Hey." Arthur sat beside Ariadne, who was crying. Her pretty hazel eyes were red, tears streaming down her face.

"I can't believe Eames lied to me!" She shouted again.

The afternoon sun winked through the empty spaces of the clouds in the blue sky in streams of dazzling sunshine. Arthur sighed and looked down at his hands.

"Calm down, Ariadne. That's just the way Eames is. He can't help it."

"He told me he loved me!" Ariadne uttered. "He told me he'd do anything for me. I told him to stop gambling. It was my only wish."

"If he loves you, he wouldn't lie to you." Arthur stared up at the sky. "Ariadne, don't be hurt by him. It's something I've always wanted to warn you about. Eames is not worth your time."

Arthur took her hand. She let him. Ariadne looked into Arthur's eyes, for a second she became lost in the transparency of green and silver.

"You're right. Sorry Arthur. I'm so sorry I've practically stopped talking to you over the last few months. I was so wrapped up in everything, I was so stupid all this time."

"No, you weren't stupid. Eames has this effect on people." Arthur smiled.

Ariadne smiled back. "Arthur, I really want to get to know you more. There's something about you, that's so mystifying. Since the day you gave me a kiss in the dream, there was a lingering impression about you. I regret not following it. Is it too late now to try?"

"No, of course not. It's never late…" Arthur said. "But we should get going. The sun is going down, the crew will be worried." He stood up, holding Ariadne's hands and helping her up. "Come on let's go."

Arthur and Ariadne walked back to the warehouse, with the sunset shining behind them through sporadic beams of light.


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five: The phone call**

**Please review!**

Ariadne lied awake in the dark, staring at the stark white ceiling of her New York apartment. She missed sitting on her old veranda and listening to late owls calling in the night; she missed her glow in the dark stars keeping her company in her old room in Toronto.

She sighed, checking her watch. It was only 2:17 a.m. She would have to endure another six hours, at least, before she can get up and go to the warehouse. Except she didn't want to go there, either. The past few days have been a haphazard for her, she'd broken up with Eames, and just yesterday, Arthur had held her hand.

What in the world was going on?

Images of Eames played behind her shut eyelids, turning her headache into a throbbing pain. The first day he had been on her mind. The first time they'd went on a bike trip together. The first time she'd ever really trusted him. Eames. Something about him, so daring and fun, he'd always make her laugh, no matter what he'd say. And there were, of course, times when she was tired of it all, tired of Eames making up excuses or lying. But she'd thought it was okay, as long as she forgave. But yesterday was the end. She had enough of listening to Eames lie, no matter how much he'd loved her. She turned over, kicking the bed sheets onto the floor. Late autumn was still so hot, and she'd forgotten to turn on the AC.

She thought of the next day, the same old same, working in the warehouse. No, she wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything there, with Eames and Arthur staring into her back. She'd stay home, call in sick, and stay in bed and order delivery. That gave her a slight comfort, and she laid back into her soft pillow, closing her eyes. The buzz of her celphone under her pillow interrupted her thoughts. The caller ID said Eames. She groaned, flipped open the phone and refused his call. Two seconds later he was calling again. She held the phone around her fist and ignored the call again. But Eames would not give up. Not until Ariadne picked up, because he knew her well enough.

She sighed. Fine.

"What do you want, Eames! Do you realize its 2 in the morning!"

"Darling, look, I'm sorry, okay? Forgive me, Ariadne, forgive me-"

"Shut up, okay? I don't want to hear this all over again. Why don't you just go back to your…nice little bars, whatever, go play your stupid games and meet those, gorgeous people."

"Ariadne! Please listen to me. Please believe me, just this once, for me, darling."

"No!"

"I know you're not asleep, I can't fall asleep either. I'm here to make everything alright, not mess it up further, love!"

"Ughh. Don't call me love. Save that for your other girlfriends."

"No, look, Arthur had taken those pictures, he wanted you to see them! He likes you, Ariadne! He's trying to get between us!"

"Oh, yeah? And how many times have YOUR ways of recreation gotten between us? Eames, I'm tired of everything okay? Who cares if he followed you and took those pictures anyway? Because YOU were the one going there in the first place. I don't want to talk about this anymore, stop calling me."

Ariadne hung up, her heart thumping against her burning throat. She grabbed a bottle of water from the nightstand and gulped it all down. Then she laid down, water swirling in her stomach, just like her mind.

_God. Maybe that was too harsh. Maybe Eames means it this time. But no. How many times have she thought this? And how many times have they been proven to be wrong? She knew Arthur would never cheat on her like Eames might do. Arthur…_

Ariadne groaned, collecting her long wavy hair into a neat ponytail. Nothing will help her now, but maybe a hot shower will help. She let the hot droplets pound at her back and on her face, and she imagined them as silent little teardrops, falling like rain on her feet. The glass door was fogged up and she'd used her finger to scribble a name: Arthur.

_Arthur was something impossible, something too perfect to be true. Like a dream, she didn't believe that he would show any expression, any feeling. But today, was it not Arthur who had taken her hand at the park bench, and was it not him who had told her to…give him a chance? _

She decided that she didn't know, didn't want to know. But truthfully she was afraid what the answer would become.


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Five: Piano**

**Please review!**

Two weeks later, it was still the same awkwardness between Eames and Ariadne. Eames stared at her from across the room, nibbling on his piece of toast for breakfast. He liked it plain, without butter or jam, and his black coffee, sugar free.

"Eames, come here for a minute." Cobb called behind him. Eames pulled himself up, tossing the toast in the little black trash can.

"What?" He snapped.

"Eames, I realize something wrong with you lately. What's the thing?" Cobb asked innocently. Though of course, he knew, at least a bit, since HE was the one giving Arthur ideas.

"Cobb, that old stick-in-the-mud thinks he's just about good at everything." Eames sat down.

Cobb nodded knowingly, absent-mindly. Arthur was showing Ariadne how to draw a layer of the dream. Eames followed Cobb's sight and scowled, seeing the two so engaged in their conversation.

"Excuse me," Eames stood up and walked over.

"Ahem." Eames gave a little cough behind them. Arthur looked up, _smiling_. "Yes, Eames?"

Ariadne looked away, irritation playing in her eyes.

Eames looked over their shoulders. "Just wanted to check that you're on track."

"Yes, Mr. Eames. We are currently discussing the primary exit for the third layer of the dream, in comparison with the minor short cuts and other prominent-" Arthur explained confidently, his eyes closed.

Eames swallowed an insult, walking away.

"Wait, Eames!" He heard Ariadne calling behind him. This was the first time he'd heard her calling his name since the day they'd broken up.

He turned back hopefully. "Yeah?"

"Can you fetch me another cup of tea?" She was holding her white mug towards him.

"Oh. Sure." Eames drooped, walking away.

It was almost time to go from work now. Eames put on his checkered coat, grabbing his cashmere scarf. "Bye, guys." He wondered where he was going to go after work the next nights. After Ariadne had gone in his life, he'd been free of alcohol and bars. But now, what would be the danger of going again? Arthur won't follow him anymore. Eames secretly wanted her back, and a plan was slowly taking root in his mind.

Yusuf got up too, stretching. "Plenty ol' time for me to buy some dinner before my favorite show starts playing on TV."

Cobb checked his watch, frantically. "Oh no! James's soccer game. I'm going to be late."

By no time all crewmembers have gone, leaving Arthur and Ariadne alone in the warehouse. Arthur turned towards her, his hands in his beige pockets. A strand of hair was falling from his slicked back hair, his tie a little leaning off to one side. But he was perfect as ever just like the morning.

"So…Ariadne. What are you doing later?"

"Um…I don't have any plans yet." She blushed.

"Do you want to go out for dinner?"

"Yeah!" Ariadne replied, a bit too eagerly. She tried again. "I mean…yeah. Why not?"

They walked together towards a street of restaurants. Arthur was wearing a black coat, semi military inspired.

"What do you want to eat, Ariadne?"

"I love everything." She smiled.

"How do you say Japanese sushi?"

"Yeah that would be great."

"Wow, Arthur." Ariadne said, putting down her chopsticks after tasting a sushi rolled in seaweed and salmon.

"What?" He looked up, pouring sauce in her little dish.

"This was unexpected!" she laughed, this laugh like chiming bells. "I thought you'd be more into expensive Italian restaurants or something. I just couldn't imagine you in these little shops!"

Arthur chuckled, folding his hands on top of the table. He watched quietly as thoughts chased each other round and round in her lingering eyes.

"If this was unexpected, here's something more predictable." Arthur cleared his throat. "I like classical music. You can imagine _that,_ right?"

"Yeah, that's more like it!"

"I used to be in the strings symphony in university." Arthur said, signing the restaurant bill. "I played violin and piano, and some guitar. My violin is in my old home, but my piano just got delivered last week."

"Oh, wow! I want to hear you play sometime." She looks up at him with green silver eyes.

Arthur breaks into a smile, this insufferable twitching of paper-thin lips.

"Sure. Let's go after dinner."

Ariadne knew that she'd made the best choice ever, once she walked out of the sushi shop and into his apartment with Arthur's hands in hers. Arthur concealed all his feelings, but she knew them by the little gestures of his fingertips, the slight flickers of his eyes, the small twitch of his lips. She looked at his apartment, the door swung open. The bed was neatly done, the kitchen sparkling clean, the carpet floor seemed to be perfectly vacuumed.

"Wow, Arthur. You do this all yourself?" She glanced at Arthur's pleased face.

"Yeah. Whenever I have time. I like everything to be in order."

"I'm not surprised." She took off her rain boots, walking in barefooted. The carpet floor felt warm under her cold feet, and she murmured hello to the clean white walls, the sterile light on the flat ceilings, the shimmering gray tiles layering the floor.

"That's the bedroom." Arthur showed her to a medium-sized room. It had a big bed, covered with dark green bed sheets and gigantic fluffy pillows propped up at the end of the bed. Clothes were neatly folded and hung in the closet, the wooden desk facing the window was scraped clean, paperclips and folders organized into small sections. She nodded, nudging him playfully. "Very Arthur."

They walked to the living room, where the grand piano was placed.

"It's a bit out of place in my apartment." He scratched his head. "It looked perfectly fine in my parent's house."

She walked around, seeing some photo frames sitting on the fireplace. There was one of Arthur as a little kid, with his parents, and two other children. "who are they?" she asked.

"My step siblings." He almost sounded desolated.

"Oh." She felt bad for asking.

She softy walked to the piano, as if it was a sacred object. "I used to learn piano too; I stopped in the last year of high school." She opened the piano cover, brushing her fingers across the soft, fragile keynotes. She began playing her favorite song; one that she'd known since she was twelve. It was a famous Beethoven song, Fur Elise.

Arthur brought them some fresh juice, standing behind her as she played. "Ariadne! Your hidden talent! I never heard you mention playing piano before."

She finished off the song, standing up timidly. "Neither have you." She said quietly.

"Oh…no. Eames knew, I think." He murmured.

He sat down on the piano, adjusting the seat. He played a section of Mozart and Chopin. "Pieces during the European wars. Chopin was in pain for his suffering country." Arthur flipped through his music sheets.

Ariadne gasped. His slender fingers moved across the keyboard swiftly, so very fast, and beautifully. The music sounded through the whole lonely New York apartment, filling up all the empty space between them and flooding their minds. "Thank you Arthur. For helping me find back my passion."

He drove her back to her apartment, which was twenty minutes away from his.

"Goodbye, I guess." She said awkwardly, after the car has stopped.

"Yeah…Goodbye." Arthur said, though something was lingering in his voice. His eyes shone in the darkness of the enclosed car, the air became thicker, and then harder to breathe…

Ariadne leaned closer, suddenly the fragrance of green apples swallowed her entirely and she felt like falling right into Arthur's hands and she wanted his slender hands tucking stray strands of her hair back behind her ear, and then telling her that they didn't have to say goodbye at all. Arthur gripped the driver's wheel, his hair was falling from their original neat places, over his eyes, and he'd felt a little freer. Ariadne's imploring wide eyes looked up at him, and he stared right into them, seeing his own chaotic expression, confused and disordered.

"See you tomorrow." Ariadne broke free of their eye contact, opening the door and walking away quickly. Her heart was racing faster than she could walk, racing home and behind her door so she could sit and think about everything that had happened today and organize her scurrying thoughts.

Arthur drove away, befuddled but pleased, and deep inside of him he felt a little less lonely. He walked back into his apartment, thinking Ariadne's presence was a good thing, after all.

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	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Six: Oh what will Eames do now?**

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Instead of taking the subway all the way to the end, the last stop, Eames got off at the third. He was going back home. Though he hated to face the deserted place, dusty, unused, and dirty, he needed to get Ariadne back, and that was the only thing on his mind. Screw the mission, he thought. Getting Ariadne back was his next mission. He flipped open the electronic key code pad located on his ebony wood door, dialing in the key password. The door beeped and swung open automatically, and Eames was suddenly overcome with an empty sadness. He glanced around his apartment. The tousled couch, littered with chocolate wrappers and food packages. These little bags of green apple chips, they were Ariadne's favorite, Eames thought. She would toss them up high and catch them with her mouth, and she'd make Eames try that, too. They would laugh until tears rolled down their cheeks and their stomachs began to ache.

Eames grabbed on to the nearest thing he could find, feeling like blacking out. Everything about this apartment, the fragrance, the mess, and all the objects, reminded him of only one thing: Ariadne.

He walked over to the messy couch, smoothing the wrinkles on the sheet. He swept away all the garbage, trashing them in the garbage. He sat down and buried his face in his hands, shaking with regret. She was the only thing that stopped him from falling under, that one thing he needed, a drug. Now she was gone. All the afternoons spent watching the sunset and seagulls darting past the orange sky on the balcony, all the mornings spent sitting at the kitchen counter, smelling like English tea and fried eggs, and how Ariadne would call him a couch potato.

He was going to get her back. No matter how much effort it took him. Eames raided the fridge, taking out the leftovers from last night. He placed a call, ordering some take out. Then he sat down at the living room couch, devising a plan out of his head. The late night call obviously did not work, and he was rejected immediately by Ariadne. It was a painful night, after she'd hung up, he clutched the phone in his hands and had endured another five hours of mental torture before his mind finally retreated into a shallow sleep in the morning.

That damn stick-in-the-mud. Arthur. Who'd think he had such a plan up his dainty sleeves? Eames groaned. Arthur was clever, but he did not know everything. His stubbornness often lead to his failure and put him to a disadvantage; this was proven numerous times, during all the previous missions. Determination leads to stubbornness, my dear, Eames had once said.

Now those thoughts came back to him. Get. Ariadne. Back.

He eyed the clock, it read 11:11 p.m.

He realized it was going to be another long endless night. But first, he took off his coat and plaid scarf, and began making a wish. It became part of his custom, every 11:11, since he was a little kid and his uncle would teach him all the miracles in life. Even now, Eames still held on to this little piece of childhood. He was still a boy, sometimes.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter 7: Cinnamon and the tint of fresh grass **

It was late December, the snow began to fall and sparkle down the high icy blue sky, hesitating a little in a small waltz before resting on the warm ground. Ariadne stepped into her maroon boots, tucking her denim jeans in and adjusting her black wool scarf. She slung her big tote over her shoulders, looking at her reflection in the mirror in different directions.

"How do I look?" She asked nonchalantly.

Her roommate, one of her college classmates from Britain, sighed. "You look amazing Ari, you know that! Stop asking me to tell you."

"Aww, thanks Joanna."

Joanna rolled her eyes. "So this is what it's like to be in love."

Ariadne turned around suddenly, glaring at Joanna, who then shook her head. "Ari, you weren't like this with Eames. When you were with Eames, you never cared a thing about your appearance. You'd rush out the door without make up and your hair all messed up, and sometimes even without brushing your teeth."

Ariadne walked over, sitting down. "So?"

Joanna groaned. "Don't you see? Eames was perfect for you. You were so cute together! Why Arthur? That guy who never laughs and never compliments you. I don't get what's wrong with you, Ariadne."

"You don't understand. I know when he's making me happy."

"Hell, no. Are you really happy? Are you really happy buying all these new clothes?" Joanna picked up a white blouse. "You never wore these!" She picked up her heels. "You never cared about your height! Look, if Arthur really makes you happy, then why can't you just be yourself to him? Are you really happy?"

Ariadne brushed her hair into a bun behind her head. "Joanna! I AM happy, alright? I'm happy, happy, and happier. Stop worrying about me." She stood up and walked out the room quickly, shutting the door behind her and leaving Joanna to her misery.

She walked briskly towards the bus stop. Is what Joanna said really true? She examined herself. Black straight legged pants and a simple camel colored sweater, especially ironed the night before. Manicured nails, it had cost nearly twenty bucks. Sophisticated and neat. Exactly what she was going for. But the heels felt uncomfortable, and the sweater was too tight. She exhaled, watching the little swirls of white fog dissolve before her, just like her empty hopes. Human thoughts are so complicated, and it was a hurricane to be wrapped in it. But, nevertheless, she felt lighter, and safer. She was always doubting Eames' words and wondering where he went without her. Arthur never lied, and though he didn't say much, when he did, he really meant it. And that was what Ariadne held on to, those rare but truthful comments that made everything alright and the world come into focus.

Suddenly her phone began to buzz in her sweater pocket. She flipped it open.

Today is only five degrees. don't catch a cold. Arthur

Her mind froze like water in the winter. She read the text message over and over again. This was Arthur's ways of telling her how much he cared. Eames's messages would be so different. She had deleted all of them off her phone though in a sudden burst of anger a time back. But they were imprinted in her mind, inescapable.

The third bus this morning screeched to a halt before her, and the door forced itself open in two folds. "Morning," the driver hollered. Ariadne stepped on, nearly tripping over her heels. She sat alone at the back on a seat next to the window, the other seat with spilled coffee. Her mind wondered…to all the work days in the warehouse, the times Arthur had smiled at her, holding her hand in his, cold but genuine. Her mind wondered to Eames, his mysterious smirk and joking eyes, facing her. He tastes of fresh spring air with a tinge of cigarette and cinnamon earl grey. Like lazy afternoons spent lying across a park bench looking at clouds, like twilights spent running across fields of dandelions, feeling soft rains caressing her face and the breeze dancing through her wet hair.


End file.
